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'Can't take you for less than half-a-crown.' 'I have only a shilling left,' said the boy. the coachman, replacing his foot on the 'Why didn't you say so at first?' said nave of the wheel. The boy retreated a step into the shade.
This, indeed, is a subject of a less lofty character than the former; but which, if treated with self-application, may be made equally useful. Here let the questions for consideration be as follows: first, Which of these reso-tleman on the coach, I will find you eighteen'Come, jump up, my lad,' cried a genlutions is the least important? and pence.' the reason why? Second, Which is the most important? and on what account? and, What of Scrippassages ture directly, or indirectly, enforce the resolution.
"THERE is no word in the English language so much abbreviated from its original, as the word 'alms,' from the Greek nuoovvn. Six syllables are contracted into one; thus, el-e-e-mos-u-ne-elemosune-elmosn (from which the French aumône) alms; in Italian limosina, from the same original. The practice amongst modern nations of appropriating different parts of words from the dead languages, is by no means uncommon; as in the proper name Johannes, the English take the first part, John; and the Dutch the last, Hans. These instances of derivation made an impression upon me, because they were told me, when a boy, by the two greatest masters of their day in language: the first by Horne Tooke; the second by Porson; both of whom possessed the gratifying faculty of adapting their conversation to the young and unlearned. The word alms, in the original, signifies something given from the motive of pity; but however amiable the feeling, we should be careful not to indulge it idly and indiscriminately. Giving with discretion is a great virtue; it is twice blest, and the extent of its benefits can never be foreseen to either party. Illustrative of this is the following narrative, of a few shillings well laid
"As the burly coachman of one of the northern stages was remounting his box one bleak November night at the door of a little inn noted for spiced ale :
'Are not you very cold?' said the gentleman, after a short interval.
'Not very,' replied the boy, rubbing his of his cotton trousers. hands cheerily up and down in the pockets 'Not very ; I was thinking of London.'
'And what are you going to do there?' said the gentleman. The boy replied, that he was going to be bound apprentice to his uncle, who kept a cook's shop in the Borough. Then he told his own little history, and how he had travelled up one hundred and fifty miles with the few shillings his widowed mother had been able to muster for him; and he concluded with a very intelligent account of his native place, and a no less amusing one of the principal people in its neighbourhood.
And what do you intend to do to-night?' said the gentleman.
'I shall go to my uncle's,' said the boy. 'But how will you find him out? We shall not arrive before midnight; besides, your uncle will be gone to bed. Come, I will give you five shillings, and you can stay comfortably at the inn till morning.'
At the first appearance of lamps, the boy began to count them, and had just given up with the exclamation, Well! if there are not more lamps in this one street than in all our town!' when the coachman called out to him
'I say, young man, where are you going to put yourself to-night?'
'I shall stop where you stop,' said the boy.
'But you've no money, you know.' Ay,' said the boy, triumphantly, this gentleman will give me some.' 'So much the better for you,' said the coachman.
At the inn, the gentleman took the boy apart, and putting five shillings into his hand, told him to get a comfortable supper, and a good night's rest, and not to let any one know how much money he had. 'In the morning,' continued he, 'make yourself as
'When you gave me the money, Sir, I felt more than I said. Your name I saw on your portmanteau, and I happened to hear your servant tell the hackney-coachman where to drive; so it came into my mind that I would never rest till I had shown you that I was not ungrateful. In a few days I came to look at your house. I owe you more than you think, Sir. When I found my uncle, I will say, he received me kindly enough; but he seemed to look upon me much more, as soon as he heard how a gentleman like you had been pleased to stand my friend; and I do not think but I should have been a very different character to what I am, if I had not had the good fortune to see you. I should have come long ago, but I hope you will excuse me for saying I did not forget your advice not to neglect my mother. Now, however, she is so comfortably off, that she has sent me word I need trouble myself no farther on her account. I hope, Sir, you will not take it amiss' (here he paused and blushed;)—but why I have taken the liberty to come to day is, my uncle at this time of the year, makes a kind of a large, seasoned pie, which is much thought of by the better sort of people in our neighbourhood. It will be nothing to a gentleman like you, I know; but if you will only allow me to bring you one, said the youth, in a supplicatory tone.
Well,' said Mr. B. with a smile, as I clearly perceive it is a free offering on your part, I accept it willingly. Your gratitude does you great credit. Bring your pie as soon as you please, and let me see you again this day week, that I may tell you
how I like it.' The donor of the pie made his appearance at the appointed time, and his anxiety was changed into delight, when he found his present had given satisfaction to Mr. B. Finding, from examination, that he had attended more to pie-making than to scholarship, he advised him to devote his leisure time to attendance upon some competent master; 'For,' said he, if you get on in the world, which you seem well qualified to do, you will find the want of suitable acquirements a constant hinderance and mortification. Lose no time in beginning, and I will charge myself with the expense.' With such encouragement it is not to be wondered at, that the scholar soon came to write a beautiful hand, and to be more than commonly expert in accounts, by which means he was enabled greatly to assist his less learned uncle, who, in return, made him first his partner, and finally his heir; and to his benefactor, who happened to possess a neglected property in the vicinity of his residence, he was fortunate enough, by his local knowledge and zealous superintendence, to render the most important services."
THE YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S GRAVE. "GRAVE of the righteous! surely, there The brightest bloom of beauty is; O may I sleep on couch as fair: And with a hope as bright as his!"
It was a sweet spot in a quiet village churchyard, where the remains of a beloved young friend were deposited by the weeping parents and connexions, there to slumber in undisturbed tranquillity, till the resurrection morning. The village where the friend of my youth resided, for many years, and where, at last, he expired, was one of great retiredness and beauty. It was in one of the sylvan parts of England: situated in the lap of some romantic hills, and surrounded by the richest pastoral scenery. The habitations in the village were not numerous, but they were exceedingly simple and interesting. They had their cultivated little gardens, before and around them, and it was beautiful, in the month of May, to mark the variety of flowers which were then blooming in all their loveliness, and shedding abroad their rich and honied fragrance. The habitation where a dear friend and his family resided, was one of a peculiarly attractive character. It was an ornamented cottage, chaste in its decorations, and embosomed in the loveliest scenery. It had a beautiful garden surrounding it; and, at a short distance, there was an orchard of considerable extent, where "the golden fruits of autumn" were
hung in rich luxuriance. The family, dwelling in this delightful spot, was composed of the parents, and two interesting sons. The character of the entire family was one of the most engaging kind. There was intelligence, kind feeling, an ardent love of home, great attachment to the country, a strong desire to do good to those in the neighbourhood who required instruction or aid, and the manifestation of unaffected piety. They were happy in themselves; they were respected by every person in the vicinity; and they enjoyed God in all things.
The youngest of the sons had always experienced very delicate health, and, at times, he had been visited by trying and alarming illness. His constitution was extremely tender; a cold would generally affect his chest severely, and every thing indicated that he was not destined to continue very long with those parents, who almost doted on him. Such, also, were the sentiments of their son himself. His impression was-"I shall have an early grave. I shall be removed from the vale of tears, before I attain my majority." "O may 1," he would often say, "be prepared for the dying hour; and, at length, reach my father's house in peace.' He acted under the habitual influence of this conviction. His sentiment was, "all the days of my appointed time will I wait, till my change come." His conversation was in heaven. He walked with God. He communed with the Saviour. He died to the world daily. And, yet there was nothing gloomy or desponding about him. He was cheerful and happy. He discharged his duties with energy and pleasure. He acquiesced in the arrangements of Providence. He felt that God's will was the wisest and the best.
His health improved from fifteen to seventeen, but, after the latter period, it began sensibly to decline. A severe cold, taken when he had been out rambling rather too late one autumnal evening, was most distressing in its consequences. The lungs were powerfully affected, and medical attention and skill could effect comparatively little. He rallied, however, in some degree in the spring, and was able to take occasional walks in the quiet and beautiful neighbourhood of his residence. The kindness of his parents was unbounded, and he felt it most sensibly. They sometimes said, "Well, we still hope our dear boy will recover, and that air and gentle exercise, will be instrumental in his restoration." He did improve for some period, his energies appeared to be increasing, and his relatives were anticipating that God would yet spare to them one so dear to them all. The ways of Providence, however, are not as
our ways: the thoughts of infinite wisdom are not as our thoughts; for, in the autumn, the health of this engaging and beloved youth, began materially and most rapidly to decline; and, indeed, so swift was the progress of the distressing malady under which he laboured, that nothing could impede it, or check its ravages. He sunk quickly under it. His sufferings, at times, were intense; but all was tranquillity within. There was no repining indulged. No complaints were expressed. He could not think God unkind, for he felt that his heavenly Father did all things well. He bowed to the visitation. He knew that the Providence was in love, and he was able to realize the inestimable supports and consolations of the Christian religion. His end was emphatically peace. His death was literally what the word of God exhibits, with so much tenderness and beauty-falling asleep in Jesus. There were no fearful pangs. There were no terrible convulsions. There were no awful ravings:-all was quiet and serene. "I am going home," he would sweetly say, "going to that Father who has loved me to that Saviour who redeemed me-to the angels who will welcome meto my brethren in Christ who will hail my arrival. Happy, happy day! when I shall be no longer
'Like a stranger or a guest, But like a child at home!'"
He went off without a struggle: it was merely a gentle and quiet breathing, and his spirit was with God; his home was in paradise; his dwelling place was the bosom of Jesus; where, in conjunction with the seraphim and cherubim, and the entire company of the redeemed,
"He would drink in, beside the eternal throne,
Bliss everlasting and unknown."
The intense grief of the parents need not be dilated on, and the deep affliction of the brother. It was sorrow indeed, still "not sorrow without hope." There was much to distress; still, how much to animate! They knew that he was happy. They saw him die. They perceived that Jesus was with him in the dark valley, and they were assured that his spirit was triumphant before the throne. They committed his body to the dust, with chastened resignation. They felt, when they looked for the last time into his grave, that he would rise again with unmingled glory and joy; therefore, when they returned home to their bereaved habitation, now comparatively cheerless and desolate, while they were exceedingly "cast down, they were not in despair;" they looked for
ward to a reunion in heaven, where sorrow would never enter; where change would never be experienced; where sin would never ravage; and where separation would never be effected.
How consoling it is to the genuine Christian to go and visit the grave of a young believer, like the dear friend whose end has been narrated. At that grave there is nothing to disturb us, much less to agonize us. There the most soothing feelings are inspired. There the most delightful associations are indulged. There the holiest anticipations are cherished. Our faith is strengthened; our love is increased; our "THE places of judicature which I have hopes are confirmed, and our joys are multi-long held in this kingdom, have given me an plied; and we dwell with peculiar gratitude opportunity to observe the original cause of and pleasure on those beautiful and sublime most of the enormities that have been comwords of our Lord, "I am the resurrection mitted for the space of near twenty years; and the life he that believeth in me, though and, by a due observation, I have found, that he were dead, yet shall he live. Because I if the murders and manslaughters, the burlive ye shall live also." glaries and robberies, the riots and tumults, the adulteries, fornications, rapes, and other enormities that have happened in that time, were divided into five parts, four of them have been the issues and product of excessive drinking, of tavern or ale-house meetings."
Can any thing be more important than for young men to anticipate the end of life? How soon may it terminate! How suddenly may it come to a close! what little circumstances may carry the youngest, the healthiest, and the most animated, to the grave! So wrote Sir Matthew Hale, and yet he My young readers, do you wish to die in never witnessed the magnificence of a ginpeace? then live to Jesus: rise above the palace, or the squalid misery which issues world; abandon its empty pleasures, and re- therefrom. The callendar of crime in his nounce its sinful gratifications. Dwell on day was not increased by the malignant ineternity. Pray that your hearts may be influence of the beer-shop. When will a stop heaven. Look forward to the unutterable be put to these moral pests?
So, when youth's bright skies are vanish'd,
Take the gifts that Heaven provides thee
To enjoy with grateful heart,
Blessings still shall rest upon thee,
How distress'd soe'er thou art, Which shall ne'er be taken from thee, If thou choose the "better part."
INDEPENDENCE IN LITTLE THINGS.-Sir John Sinclair once asked Mr. Cochrane Johnstone, whether he meant to have a son of his (then a little boy) taught Latin?
No," said Mr. Johnstone, "but I mean to do something a great deal better for him." "What is that?" said Sir John. 66 Why," said the other, "teach him to shave with cold water, and without a glass." Without discussing the comparative merits of a knowledge of Latin, and shaving in the manner described, it must be acknowledged that a habit of independence in any thing which a man must do daily, is of very much greater importance than is commonly supposed.
RELIGIOUS OBJECTIONS.-All objections, when considered and answered, turn out to the advantage of the Gospel, which resembles a fine country in the spring season, when the very hedges are in bloom, and every thorn produces a flower.-Bishop Horne.
London R. Needham, Printer, 1, Belle-Sauvage-Yard, Ludgate-Hill.
YOUNG MEN'S MAGAZINE.
THE SUPERIOR FACILITIES OF YOUNG
from the Continent when just on the point of extending his travels to Sicily and Greece, sacrificing his own immeIn a preceding address, it was re-diate gratification in the improvement marked that the appellation, "Young of his mind to the duty which he owed Men," implies a capacity for great his country; for he deemed it sinful, usefulness, and, consequently, involves as he himself informs us, to be enjoythe idea of responsibility. It might ing his ease abroad, while his compa easily be shown that every member of triots were struggling in blood for society is charged with an amount of their liberties at home. And it was obligation to serve society, propor- the same conviction, rising to enthutioned to his means of usefulness. siasm, which has led others confidently Though indolence may not be pun- to believe that they were called superished by our laws as it was by the naturally, by visions or voices, to work laws of Athens and of Rome, yet, the deliverance and enhance the glory every individual is as much bound by of their nation. Thus young Nelson honour, conscience, and the word of tells us that after a long and gloomy God, to be diligent and useful to the reverie, in which he almost wished full amount of his abilities, as the himself overboard, a sudden glow of labourer is bound to finish the work patriotism was kindled within him, for which he is hired. On this prin- which presented his King and country ciple it is that some of the greatest as his patron, and which called from men who have walked the earth, have him the enthusiastic exclamation, "I regarded themselves as born for their will be a hero! and, confiding in procountry. This was the first idea in-vidence, I will brave every danger!" stilled into the mind of the Lacedemo- From that time, he often said, a radiant nian youth; indeed, it was the sole orb was suspended in his mind's eye, basis on which their education and which urged him onwards to renown; character were built. This was the and he ever appeared to believe that conviction which led the youthful it bore with it a prophetic glory, and Hannibal to regard himself as devoted that the light which led him on was by the gods of Carthage to effect the light from heaven." Young men, you destruction of his country's foes: which need not wait for preternatural calls, led the younger Scipio to walk daily and special revealings; a more certain in the temple of Jupiter, nursing his vocation is soliciting you. In the dispirit for the great enterprize of de- vine example of Him whose sacred. livering Rome, and hallowing his de- and inspiring name we bear, there is a signs by prayer and which induced vision of excellence and active beneyoung Milton to hasten his return volence "let down from heaven" VOL. I.